


Talk to Him

by aohatsu



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Bonding, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-02
Updated: 2020-08-02
Packaged: 2021-03-05 06:13:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25419748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aohatsu/pseuds/aohatsu
Summary: Ronon grunts and, without speaking, they begin to spar.“You talk to McKay about this already?”
Relationships: Ronon Dex/Rodney McKay/John Sheppard
Comments: 6
Kudos: 49
Collections: Just Married Exchange 2020





	Talk to Him

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TrashyTime](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrashyTime/gifts).



Ronon drops the plastic tray onto the table so hard that the resulting snap of plastic sounds through the mess hall loudly. The group of alphas at the table behind him abruptly shut their mouths, startled by the noise, nervously looking at him like he might start attacking them at any moment.

Admittedly, the idea has merit.

He considers punching the biggest one right in his damn teeth so that he’s _incapable_ of opening his damn mouth for a few months.

Instead, Ronon sits down and grabs the roll off his plate, roughly tearing it apart and shoving half of it in his mouth, a silent dare for them to keep talking. They must not be complete idiots because they're conspicuously quiet afterward, and leave soon after that with uneasy, glancing looks back at him. Ronon waits until every last one of them has left the mess hall before he takes up the spoon and fork and begins to really eat.

Sheppard slips in across the table from him a few minutes later, frowning with a small twinkle in his eye, like he’s halfway pleased about something he shouldn’t be. "So, what's with the alphas that just skedaddled down the hallway talking about how big and scary our new friend is?"

Ronon shrugs. He takes a large gulp of water to wash down the mashed potatoes.

"I feel like you did something,” Sheppard continues anyway. He pauses, contemplating. "I could be wrong. But it's you, and you tend to scare people, so I don't think I am. I know you’ve only been here a few months, but I think I know you well enough by now to be reasonably certain about it."

Ronon grunts. "They said things."

"How dare they."

Ronon raises his eyes to look at Sheppard. He stares at him, his eyes narrowing as Sheppard continues to wait.

"It's impolite."

Sheppard drops his fork.

"I'm sorry, did you just say 'it's impolite'?" He looks incredulous. "Okay, where's Ronon and what did you do to him?"

Ronon sighs, pushing his plate forward. No one is paying them any attention, and Sheppard is—

Sheppard is McKay’s alpha.

He explains. "They were talking about McKay."

On Satida, that would have been explanation enough. Here on Atlantis, with these people, apparently it’s not.

"... okay?” Sheppard hazards. “You were pissed they were, what, complaining about Rodney's... how do you even describe Rodney? I mean, you can't exactly blame them for that. He can be a pain in the ass."

"They were talking about his scent," Ronon says through gritted teeth. That alone would have been socially unacceptable as far as Ronon is concerned. But they had gone that step further; they had been _laughing_ about it, like a bunch of idiotic baby-faced alphas who’d never popped a knot, who hadn’t had common courtesy beaten into them by their martial commander yet.

Laughing about an omega’s scent; that you could smell that their heat was coming on _from all the way down the hall_.

And then to _laugh at_ and disparage the omega in question by acting as if the gift of mating with them would be a hardship, a fucking _trial_.

Even undesirable.

He had challenged alphas on Satida for far less, though a Satidan alpha who’d treat an omega like that were few and far between. His people were raised with honor, with some fucking _common decency_.

“Oh,” Sheppard says, eyebrows furrowing as he frowns. “Yeah, his heat is coming. He has another day or two before he’ll stop working. If I could get him to stay in our quarters, I would, but he insists that we’ll blow the place up without him. I mean, you know Rodney. Thinks the sun shines out of his ass. Is that all they were saying? It doesn’t seem like—”

“On Satida,” Ronon cuts him off, because clearly Sheppard doesn’t understand, “for an alpha to speak of an omega like that, in public, is a punishable offense. To say the things they were saying would have had them beaten and demoted if they were lucky.”

Sheppard stares, and then realization seems to dawn and his mouth gets tight.

“They weren’t _just_ talking about his scent then. They were, what, challenging each other to mate him? Betting on who’d manage it? Damn, I didn’t catch all their faces and now I want to give them all latrine duty.”

Latrine duty, for an offense that on Satida that would have had an alpha sore and limping for days. He scowls.

“No,” he says, because it’s true. Everyone on base knows that Sheppard is McKay’s chosen heat-partner. Ronon himself had been able to scent their edging bond when he’d first met them. Teyla had been the one to tell him they weren’t a mated pair nearly a week after he’d agreed to stay on their base and join Sheppard’s team. She’d been the one to explain that all the Atlantis omegan personnel had a chosen heat-partner and Rodney had chosen Sheppard _for they are true friends, and Rodney has granted John this honor._ She had paused, frowning, and added, “These people are odd when speaking of alphas and omegas. Their culture is… different. I suggest you tread the topic carefully.”

Sheppard’s frown deepens. “No?”

“They wouldn’t have suggested that out of respect for you, their superior officer. No, they were talking about how glad they were that you had,” he remembers the exact words the blonde one had used and bares his teeth, “ _taken one for the team_.”

It was baffling.

McKay was an omega of enticing appeal. On Satida, an omega of his standing would have long been claimed and mated, fought for by many during the Spring Bonding Festival when it was commonly accepted to propose bondings or even temporary matings. Ronon himself would have stepped into the ring to fight for the honor.

For all that McKay was incapable of fighting, a coward in the face of danger and prone to self-boasting, melodramatic declarations, and impracticality on tactical missions, he was also intelligent enough to run circles around every alpha on this base. He was brave and selfless when the time came for it, demanded it, and despite his fear, had proven himself willing to risk his own life for that of his fellow soldiers—team members—on several occasions.

Particularly Sheppard.

He’d also proven himself ruthless with the enemy when needed, if largely reluctant to carry out the deed himself, and for all the self-boasting, the majority of what he boasted about was _true_. He was kind without giving his kindness to those who didn’t deserve it. He pushed people toward their limits, though perhaps too bluntly for some to appreciate.

His laugh was ear-catching, his mouth eye-catching.

His body was soft, the heat of his skin enough to grace the body of any who sat just a little too close.

He was beautiful, an omega many on Satida, or indeed anywhere, would call to their minds at night, rutting into their hands like wild beasts.

There was something twisted about a group of people who couldn’t see it.

Sheppard huffs, leaning back in his chair.

“I’ll admit Rodney’s not exactly a walk in the park, but taking him through his heat isn’t exactly a _hardship_ ,” and then stops when he realizes the fierce glare Ronon has focused on him. “But never mind, you’re right. That’s not exactly talk for a public space like this one.”

They both go back to eating. Sheppard keeps glancing at him out of the corner of his eye.

Ronon, finishing his plate, gets up.

“Hey, wait up,” Sheppard says, hurrying to follow him out of the mess hall.

Ronon grunts and starts heading for the training room. He’s feeling the urge to fight.

“So, I was just thinking,” Sheppard says, casting Ronon a side-eyed glance once they’re in the training room, “that there might be a chance you’d be interested in joining me and Rodney for his heat.”

Ronon freezes.

“Just an idea,” Sheppard adds, casually grabbing a stick off the wall. Ronon takes another one.

"Aren't you his heat-partner? Wouldn't it be against the rules?"

"Rules? Oh. No. I mean, sure, it started out that way, but we're bonded by this point. Couldn't get rid of him if I tried. Nobody gets a say in what we do anymore."

Ronon grits his teeth and nods. “Then what, you can’t handle him on your own?” It’s the only thing he can come up with.

Sheppard makes a face and says, “I do just fine, thanks. It’s just that, you know, Rodney can be a bit… demanding. Honestly, I could use the extra… pair of hands.”

Ronon grunts and, without speaking, they begin to spar.

“You talk to McKay about this already?”

Sheppard jerks backward to avoid a hit and admits, “Well, no. Not yet. But I’m pretty sure he’ll say yes.”

Ronon hooks the stick behind Sheppard’s legs and pulls. Sheppard hits the ground hard and rolls over with a groan.

“Talk to him,” Ronon says, and drops the stick. He walks out of the room to Sheppard’s broken, “Yep, can do.”

Three days later, he opens the door to his quarters only to see McKay and Sheppard standing on the other side.

“—and you’re sure he said he wanted to do this—”

“I swear he was interested—”

“It’s just surprising. I don’t think the man has ever started a conversation with me before if it wasn’t a life-or-death situation and even then it just never seemed like—”

“Rodney, come on, he’s just… quiet.”

Ronon interrupts them both.

“You two want to come in or keep talking about it in the hallway?”

McKay’s scent has gotten strong enough that his heat must be close. It’s heady and demanding. Rodney looks—bright. Enticing.

Ronon looks at Sheppard instead. “What’s this?”

McKay pipes up, “You don’t know? He doesn’t know? Oh, that’s just great.” He throws his arms up, and Ronon’s eyes darken at his scent spreading through the room. Through his room.

Sheppard jumps in.

“I talked to Rodney,” he says, pointedly. “He said that it sounded like an excellent idea.”

“I didn’t use the word excellent, I said it was a reasonable plan, I said—”

Ronon steps forward, into their space. Sheppard, for all that this was his idea, instinctively takes a step forward at the same time, just slightly stepping between Ronon and Rodney. Rodney slams his mouth shut, looking between them.

“It’s a good idea, if you really want us both,” Ronon says, gruffly, after a minute.

He does Rodney the courtesy of looking him in the eyes as he says so.

McKay stumbles over his words. “Oh. Oh, well, if you—I mean, yeah, that’s—that’d be nice. I’ve never had two alphas during a heat before. John always gets tired by the third day and starts throwing water bottles at me."

Sheppard, apparently affronted, adds, “Hey, by the third day I usually have rug burn in some pretty sensitive places, alright? I’m tired. And you need to stay hydrated.”

Ronon rolls his eyes, but his mouth quirks up in a smile.

“I’ll keep you both hydrated. And tired.”

Sheppard nods, “Well, let’s—”

“Hold up,” McKay says, putting a hand, eyes narrowed. “Both of us? As in you? And Sheppard? Together?”

“Wait, what?”

McKay keeps going, looking pleased, “I really want to watch this. I _really_ want to watch this. This is going to be great for me.”

Ronon wants to touch him. Hell, he wants to touch them both, take them to the ground and begin running his mouth along Rodney’s soft skin, and push Sheppard into place. They’ll be partners, working together to keep Rodney satisfied through his heat. They’ll all bring each other pleasure, and afterwards—afterwards, they’ll belong to one another, as mates.

“This can’t be a one-time thing for me,” Ronon says, before they begin.

“What do you mean?” Sheppard asks, frowning.

“I don’t know it works where you’re from, but on Satida, when you take an omega through heat, you form a bond. All three of us would be doing this together. The bond is… significant.”

“Sounds similar enough to what we do,” Sheppard says. “I assume by the bond you mean, what, monogamy? Because we’d expect that too—right, Rodney?”

“Oh, yeah, that’s a deal-breaker. Do you know how many diseases there are in _one_ galaxy, let alone two—”

Ronon interrupts to answer Sheppard. “That, and enhanced instincts when it comes to protection. Provisions. Distance.” He clarifies, “You’ll belong to me. Both of you will belong to me. And I’ll belong to you.” He adds, because he’s not sure they understand the relevance: “The bonding signifies partnership.”

“Yeah, that’s all good. Your bed feels harder than mine. Huh.” McKay has migrated over to the bed, settling down as if to get comfortable only he makes a face at the apparent firmness of the mattress. “We do this in our quarters, by the way. Nesting, you know. Actually, should we bring your stuff over before or after my heat? I think I'd like to at least have your blankets already there.”

Ronon smirks. He looks at Sheppard, who looks affectionately annoyed—a regular look on Sheppard’s face when it comes to McKay.

“Oh, and you have to call me Rodney. And call him John,” McKay adds. “It’s too weird otherwise. So!” He claps his hands. “We ready to go do this? I’m getting kind of, you know.” He gives a little wiggle and grins.

Sheppard huffs. “He’s impatient. I told you that, didn’t I? Grab the damn blankets, Rodney.”

Ronon grins and hits the door lock to open it up.

“I can’t wait.”


End file.
